‘Tis the season, and every year I ask a “volunteer” to write a post celebrating the holidays. This year Stuart drew the short straw and he was nominated by me to share his memories of Hanukkah on this, the 8th day. Here’s his very heartfelt essay.

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I spent part of my childhood in Oklahoma City and was the only Jew in my class at school.

When Hanukkah rolled around, the teacher would call me up to the front with the following words: “And now Stuart, the class Jew, will come to the front and tell us about Hanukkah.” She wasn’t being mean or prejudiced, she wanted to expose the homogeneous class to someone different and I was the lucky guy. After my nervous explanation, I would return to my seat and the boys around me would flick the back of my head or ears and whisper, “Christ killer, Christ killer.” I’d harshly whisper back, “you can’t kill someone who never existed,” and wish the school day was over. Ah, the spirit of the holiday season!

Review Summary: The Nothingness of Ben is a fun, humane, and witty romantic comedy, populated by wonderful characters. The novel’s effectiveness is undermined by themes of grief and mourning, never successfully integrated into the novel’s theatrical tone.

Most of you remember Stuart who, some years ago, questioned many of the constructs and tropes used by male/male authors in their novels. I used his questions as the basis for a few articles which were so popular that the hits keep coming even today. We reconnected a few weeks ago and after a lot of persuasion and bribes :grin: Stuart agreed to become a reviewer and guest contributor for the site. I’m really happy he decided to join us because his “voice” is like a breath of fresh air. This is his first post which as usual is hard-hitting, but also asks some valid questions that need to be posed. I hope you will comment after you read Stuart’s article.

Marcos Chaljub, 29, and Freddy Zambrano, 30. The first male couple in New York State to legally marry on July 25, 2011

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A few weeks ago my husband came home from work, tired, grimy, and horny from protecting and serving the people of New York City. Yeah, I married a cop and am living the dream. Seeing lustful gleams, crouching like wild beasts in his gold-flecked, hazel eyes, I gave myself completely to the demands of his love. Stripping, I looked into those masculine, yet profoundly tender, policeman’s eyes, and said, “Need.” He grunted unhappily, a bear disturbed while seeking a hive rich with man-honey, and said, “Stu, why have you suddenly stopped using pronouns? You always use pronouns.” (It’s true, proper syntax defines me as much as my improperly sinful body.) I hesitated for a second, a blush slowly spreading up from my sweaty chest to burnish my smooth cheeks. I knew this delicate pink, yet powerfully masculine, blush heightened my desirability and I would not be deterred from having him.

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